Lumberjack Werebear (Saw Bears Book 1) (8 page)

“So, you guys are called the Ashe Crew because you live in the Asheland Mobile Park, right?” Brooke held onto the grab handle to save herself from smashing her head against the window of Tagan’s truck.

The roads were washed out and dangerous, but Tagan was sitting there with his arm draped across the wheel like the jarring didn’t bother him at all.

“The Ashe Crew has been around for a very long time. That trailer park was named after us.”

“But those trailers look about thirty-five years old. You can’t be a day over thirty.”

“Not named after us exactly, but the others in the Ashe Crew before our time. Ashes hadn’t been on this land for a decade before the sawmill opened back up.”

“Then why aren’t there any older men in your crew. You guys all look the same age.”

The side of Tagan’s lip twitched, and he looked out the side window, as if he was hiding his eyes from her. “There aren’t many old-timers left. Too many rules, and when times started changing, they struggled to adjust. They battled each other into oblivion.”

“Like lumberjack wars?” How had she never heard about this before?

“Sort of. Not all of us are lumberjacks. Some are firefighters, some are homesteaders or ranchers. We usually lock up with others who earn the same living. And usually that living includes physical labor. It keeps our…it keeps us centered. Keeps us calm and able to live normal lives.”

“I don’t understand. So, crews are like an underground club? Like a motorcycle club or something. Or a gang?”

“Sure.”

His voice said he wouldn’t give any more on that topic, so she made a crafty switch. “So, the Ashes, the Boarlanders, and the Gray Backs are all lumberjack crews.”

“The Boarlanders are cutters. They switch back and forth between our site and the Gray Back’s. They go down the mountainside and cut the trees. Look,” he said, pulling to a stop and pointing.

Sure enough, the side of a hill was covered in felled trees. They looked like messy stacks of toothpicks from here. At the top was what looked like a work area with gigantic machines.

“They leave one tree up called a lift tree. They pick a big sturdy one, and that’s what we attach the cables to.” He dragged his finger through the air, across a long cable traveling down the mountain. “That’s called the skyline. We have a machine that can haul logs up using that, but they need a crew down there attaching the cables to the lumber. That’s my job.”

She found it fascinating and leaned forward. Pointing to an enormous red machine with a long arm off to the side of the clearing, she asked, “What’s that machine called?”

“That’s the processor. Connor runs that one. Watch the arm there.”

Finger-like metal appendages reached down the hill to a pile of rough logs. With one in its grip, the tree was pulled through the claws and stripped of its limbs, then the ends were cut off to make a clean log.

A trio of logs was hooked to cables hanging off the skyline, and they were dragged up the side of the mountain so fast, she gasped. “Isn’t it dangerous being down there with that kind of equipment flinging all around?”

“Very. It’s dangerous up on the landing, too. You have to keep your head at all times and make sure you trust your crew. And,” he said, reaching into the back seat. “You always wear a hard hat. Always.” He placed the cold, yellow thing over her head and made sure it was snug before he pulled on his own. “I’m going to set you up behind the landing and well out of the way of the cables so I don’t spend the day worrying about you. Promise me you won’t go wondering around though, okay?”

“Okay, I promise.” She gave a private smile and looked at the passing trees as Tagan sped up again.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Brooke,” he growled out.

“I just think it’s cute when you get all worried and protective.”

“Yeah well, protective instincts are part of the territory with me now. Especially after what we did last night.” The last part was mumbled, as if he didn’t mean for her to hear it.

Tagan parked near Denison’s Bronco and jogged around the front of the truck while she finagled the cooler out of the back. He opened her door and reached over her lap to help. Her breath froze in her throat as her body instantly responded to him, her nerve endings electrifying. He gripped her waist and snuck a glance to the landing, then back. With a naughty grin, he dipped forward and nipped her lip. “You want to wear my jacket today?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“So you can be reminded about last night? No, no, no. You need to be careful out here, remember. Since it’s so dangerous and all.” She kissed him again, gently, just a peck to show him she cared. “But thank you for the offer.”

“You know, it wasn’t just for me,” he argued. “The wind is harsher up here in the hills, and your jacket is too thin.” His gaze dipped to the crease between her legs. “You could put it over your lap.”

She tapped on his hard hat thoughtfully with her fingernails, then nodded. “You win. I’ll bring your jacket.”

His grin grew bigger, reaching his eyes until they danced. “Good. I like the thought of it on your lap even better.” He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Because then it’ll smell like you, all hot and ready for me.” He nibbled her earlobe, tickling her until she giggled and shoved his shoulder.

“You have a one track mind, you little beast,” she said, trying to look serious. From the amusement swimming in his eyes, she’d failed.

“I am a beast,” he declared. His smile faded. “You’d do best to remember that.” He grabbed the cooler and helped her from the truck, then led her up the hill to a group of large boulders well out of the way of danger, but where she could see everything going on. “Lunch is in three hours,” he said. “I’ll come get you.”

“Hey,” she said as he made to leave. “I like you.”

A slow, hopeful-looking smile crooked his lips. “I like you, too, Brooke.” Gathering her hands in his, he kissed her knuckles lightly, like he had in the grocery store, then jogged nimbly down the hillside toward the landing.

Her hands were warm where his lips had touched her skin. His jacket smelled like him, woods and man and some sort of crisp, clean-smelling body wash, and something more in the undercurrents. She pulled another breath and frowned in concentration. Animal? The mixture of his scents was so alluring she inhaled three more times before she settled the jacket onto her lap and pulled her art supplies from her satchel.

The next few hours she spent in observation. Time flew as she tried to figure out everyone’s job. Tagan seemed to be the boss up here, but he worked down with the crew. He held a walkie-talkie, and from where she sat, seemed to speak to Kellen, who ran the main machine that dragged logs, and Connor on the processor. In between hauls, he, Denison, Brighton, and Bruiser hooked giant cables around felled logs, then ran to the edges of the clearing to get out of the way of the machinery that dragged them up the hill. She couldn’t even imagine how awful it would be for one of her friends to get caught under those lumber-heavy cables. It rocked with power and dragged the logs so fast it could crush the crew with one little misstep.

To eradicate those awful thoughts, she pressed charcoal sticks to sketch paper and shadowed and smudged with her fingers to sculpt the pictures she wanted. She’d meant to draw the new scenery since it was absolutely beautiful up here if she ignored the strip of felled, dead logs down the mountainside. But instead of drawing pines or birds or the river that snaked through the valley below, she drew Tagan. And not just Tagan, but the machinery and the other men as well. She tried to capture the seriousness in Kellen’s eyes when he turned in the seat of the machine he worked, and the focus on Tagan’s face when he was making sure his crew was out of the way and safe. She drew Denison’s grin after he told a joke and Brighton as he stood on the landing with his back to her with the wide world beyond.

“Those are pretty good,” Connor said from behind.

Brooke gasped and jumped so hard, her charcoal skittered across Haydan’s eyebrow. “You scared me,” she said, closing the sketch book. It felt weird to share her unfinished drawings with him.

“Didn’t mean to. I asked Tagan if I could show you around the landing while they hook up the next bunch of logs.” His voice sounded bitter, as if it tasted bad that he had to ask Tagan for permission on anything.

She looked down the hill at Tagan, who was watching her with his hands on his hips. He nodded once. He had told Connor he could show her around then.

“Okay,” Brooke said, unsteadily getting to her feet.

She gathered her things, but Connor took the satchel and shouldered it. “Let me,” he said, folding Tagan’s jacket over his forearm and offering her a hand as she climbed down the boulder. With a polite smile, she hid her desire for Tagan and his touch right now. After she slipped her palm from Connor’s, she made her way down the hillside with him.

Drew was sawing loops of cables, and he looked up and grinned as they passed. A whistle blasted, and she hunched into herself against the noise. It had been sounding all morning, but down here, it was almost deafening.

“That’s Denison letting Kellen know he is clear to drag the lumber up the hill. It means everyone is out of the way,” Connor explained.

“Oh.”

A whistled sounded from farther off, and she looked at him with arched eyebrows.

“That’s the Gray Backs. Their site isn’t too far away. Close enough for us to hear their whistle.”

“Doesn’t Kellen get confused between the two?”

“Not now. If our boss moves our sites closer together, it could cause a problem.” His blond hair fluttered in the breeze under his hard hat, and dimples bracketed his mouth as he smiled and dragged his gaze from her boots to her eyes. “Damn girl, you do look good in a hard hat.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes. “You work the processor, right?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, and the clouds above let off the first drops of an early spring storm. Cold splats of water hit her arms as she crossed them over her chest like a shield.

“Come on, I’ll show you the machine I work. The boys will stop for lunch soon, but we’ve got a few minutes.”

The cab of the machine was small but fit them both comfortably…if she sat on Connor’s knee, which he insisted on until she growled and gave in. He showed her all the levers and what they did, and then he placed her hand on the main one and guided her through picking up a log and stripping it. She had to admit, having control of heavy machinery was empowering and addictive. She did three more logs with Connor’s help, then one by herself. It was then that she noticed Connor’s hands on her waist, his thumbs stroking her back.

Stiffening, she jerked away from him. “I think I should go.”

“Go where?” he asked, gripping her waist again.

“Stop it, Connor. I’m with Tagan.” She didn’t know why she said that. They weren’t to the phase yet when they were claiming each other publicly, but Connor was way too handsy for her comfort. He was charming and handsome, but sometimes his eyes went cold, like they were doing now, and he reminded her of Markus.

“He has no claim to you, Brooke. That’s not how this works. Not up here with us.”

“What?” she asked, backing out of the doorway.

Connor stood and ducked the frame. “Tagan has to abide by rules, just like the rest of us do. You aren’t with him, Brooke. You aren’t with anyone. I have just as much right to you as he does.”

The metal steps had grown slick in the rain that was coming down harder now. Panic clogged her throat. Markus had followed her like this, stalked her until she was cornered. She wouldn’t let that happen again with another man as long as she lived. Swallowing a whimper, she climbed down the side of the machine as fast as she could.

“What are you doing?” Connor yelled and grabbed her jacket.

A scream lodged in her throat as she bucked away from his touch, away from Connor and Markus and anyone who wanted to hurt her. Her vision blurred with her frantic need to escape, and she lurched out of her jacket. Losing her balance, she tumbled down the last step and tried to catch herself on the grate.

The scream she’d tried to swallow burst out as Connor reached for her and missed. Pain, jagged and dark, slashed up her arm as she caught sharp metal and tumbled to the ground. She landed hard in the damp dirt below. Her tailbone ached, but that wasn’t what had her gasping in pain. Her hand wept red from a deep gash across her palm. Her nerve endings were burning, and she clutched it to her chest so she wouldn’t see the crimson anymore.

“Fuck, why did you do that?” Connor yelled. “I was trying to catch you and you jerked away from me!” He jumped to the ground beside her, looking pissed.

His shadow covered her as tears streamed down the side of her face, but he disappeared with a grunt.

“Let me see it,” Tagan said softly, suddenly there. He tugged at her hand and opened her fingers with a gentle touch. “Shit.” He stood and glared at Connor, who was sitting in the mud with a look of pure hatred. “I said you could show her around, Connor. I trusted you not to let her get hurt.”

“She jerked away from me when I was trying to catch her!”

“Were you pushing up on her?”

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “I have just as much right to her as you do. More so even. I called her. I saw her first.”